


Recovery

by CheifHijinks



Series: Delusions AU [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Delusions AU, Don't tell Jack, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I feel like Jack is a crybaby, I guess I like putting Jack in the hospital, Lots of dialogue again., M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), No beta reader, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Questionable pov, Self-Hatred, Some weird vague supernatural elements, Supernatural!Gabriel, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy deathwish, Very liberal cannons, lots of self-blame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:46:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheifHijinks/pseuds/CheifHijinks
Summary: After the destruction of the final Omnium, the world is able to return to peace thanks to their new hero of the Strike Team. But that last battle took a much greater toll on Jack than he anticipated, hospitalized and recovering from the failure of his rescue mission. At least he has Reaper to talk to.***Part 5 of Delusions AU





	1. Barely Lucid

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I put in the description that I'm skipping around? Let's get trippy. Good news, I have some direction on this one. 
> 
> About what happened to Final Strike, see below.

His eyelids twitched as he awoke. Dull recognition of the cold room and a thin blanket registered in the back of his mind. The steady tone of the vitals monitor sounded like a hazy shriek at every note before adjusting. Opening his eyes, he expected the haphazard lighting of camp filled with the angry, concerned yelling of Ana for medical supplies, and the hustle of Torbjorn trying to accommodate her. Both were absent and so was the ever present gunpowder and ash smell that permeated everything in the blast zone. Instead, the strong smell of disinfectant and stale sheets filled his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted black locks with slightly grey strands and a head laying on folded arms. Seeing that familiar head of hair sent a wave of relief in him.

The hospital room was dimly lit by an overhead light. It was a good size private room with the bed against the wall, near a window. On one side, the vitals monitor clustered with an IV pole and a side table. The curtains were shut, blocking out any outside light but Jack could tell it was the middle of the morning. If not the window, the clock over the door announced the time: 4am. He flinched at the sight of an IV in his elbow.

Associative memories.

Shaking his head, he looked back at Ana, wondering how long she'd been here. Thankfully, she didn’t seem injured. 

His body felt numb and heavy. A haze blanketed his mind, slowing his thoughts. Bandages covered much of his arms and hands, and the tight feeling over his chest and abdomen meant stitches. He barely noticed the feel of the thin hospital gown. His mouth tasted bitter, probably from dehydration. 

How long has he been here? 

Just how badly was he hurt? 

He looked at Ana, figuring she had the answers. With a shaky hand, he reached to stroke her hair. 

"Ana," was this his voice? The raspy sound barely sounded audible to him. 

She stirred at his voice, and sat up quickly when he nudged her. The familiar sight of those piercing eyes made him filled him with relief, as did the painful sting of his cheek followed by the gentle hug. Ana smiled at him. She looked tired with bags under her eyes, but he didn't see any bandages on her. Thank God.

"I can't believe you, Jack. And at the same time, I'm not surprised."

She cursed something (him probably) in Arabic under as she cupped his face gently, examining him. As his body grew more awake, his memories began filtering in and panic overroad everything. His eyes went wide.

"The survivors! Reinhardt! _Oh god, Ana, Reinhardt was shot!_ Where is he?"

Ana shushed him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he grew quiet, still tense but quiet.

"Reinhardt is fine, Jack. I patched him up myself and he's in the middle of a full recovery."

Relief visibly washed over him but his shoulders remained tense. He waited couple beats to ask, "And the camp? The Omnium?"

Ana's grave expression said it all but he needed to hear her say it, " _Gone_ , Jack. The mission was declared a success. Clean up is in progress as we speak. The war is finally over."

She withdrew her hand as he grit his teeth. Bandaged hands gripped the bed rails. 

She continued, "You almost didn't make it, Jack. Scared us all to death when Reinhardt ran in, carrying you and...You're lucky you know."

"Doesn't feel like it."

Ana went silent. She placed a hand over his, with brows furrowed in concern, “Jack-”

"I'm sorry," the words sounded _pathetic_.

_He was pathetic._

Ana shook her head,"Just get better Jack. That's all you need to think about right now."

"How long was I out?"

"As of today, about a week and a half. We almost lost you. Twice."

They remained silent, listening to his metronome heartbeats. Jack just looked at Ana, blankly, letting everything sink in. She met his eyes, and her smile tipped in a slight frown. With a tired sigh, she patted his hand before returning it to his lap.

"I have to tell them you’re awake," Ana stood but Jack grabbed her coat. 

"You,...Is everyone okay?"

Ana didn't turn around, "There were no casualties on our side. Right now, you need some rest."

Jack let her go. Ana looked back once more with tired eyes and a weary smile, promising that she'd be back. The door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the dim room with the monitor's faint beeping the only thing to break the silence. 

_Their side_. The team. 

Those civilians didn’t count as _their side_. 

They counted as _extras_ , parts of the millions who lost. 

A nurse come in then, checking on his condition. She said something, but he only replied blankly. Mid-sentence, he closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep. She tried again but received no reply. With a huff, the door shut softly behind her, returning to the room to the rhythm of the vitals monitor. He bit his lip, turning on the pillow while trying to piece together his jagged memory.

He and Reinhardt managed to make contact with the camp. There was a family. An ambush. Reinhardt yelling about his barrier shattering. Jack was with the family, hiding in the ruins and trying to come up with a plan. A drone found them. Reinforcements had come. They cut them off. He took out one but the parents... _Oh god the kid_. Something wet was on his cheeks. He was shot. The dull pain from his chest and abdomen confirmed where. He shot down a couple more bots and get separated from Reinhardt. He and the kid. Another foot soldier. A burning sensation. A shot in the heart, not his but it felt like it. Then...Then...

The pillow was wet as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

_Oh god...It was his fault. He fucked up._

Because of him, Reinhardt...The family...Jack bit his lip, tasting copper but uncaring. The vital monitor spiked with his emotions and the door burst open with a concerned nurse. 

He turned over, away from the door, silencing his sob. With a surprisingly steady voice, he managed weak "I'm fine."

For a few moments, she didn't leave, trying to ask him what's wrong. His silence eventually answered for him, as he heard the door shut softly once more.

With deep breaths, he tried to calm himself.

_It was his fault. It was his idea._

People were dead because of him. _Again_.

He didn't do enough. He said he would but didn't, promised he'd save them and didn't.

He failed them.

And he failed them.

The thought pierced him like a gunshot, closing and reopening his wounds.

' _Stop repeating yourself_ ,' those ominous words echoed in his mind again, weighing more heavily than before.

Quite the superhero he turned out to be. He wasn't able to save anyone. In fact, he got others hurt and himself critically injured. God, he didn't deserve to even be alive right now. Shame and guilt bubbled together, overflowing in his tears. 

_He was supposed to help them._

What's the point in him being the one to live on of he couldn't finish what they started? What they all believed and fought for. He was just a liability. Why did he think he could make a difference?

The room grew colder.

Jack didn't turn. He gripped the pillow tightly as he tried to stop his sobbing. A new wave of shame washed over him and the stranger stood over him but he didn't dare turn. 

"You were right, okay?" might as well say it first. "I fucked up. You knew I would and I didn't listen. You were right. _Happy?"_

Silence. He closed his eyes, ready for the barbed tongue, but the mocking voice didn't come. Instead, he felt the bed dip next to him and the figure draw close. A cold hand ran gently through his hair and a soft song quieted his sobs. He relaxed in the gesture, focusing on the figure sitting at his back.

"It was inevitable. You couldn't have saved them no matter what."

He clutched the blanket tighter in his hands, threatening to rip the thin fabric.

A sigh, "But you tried Jack. It’s the most you could do but sometimes even that isn't enough. You have to accept that."

Jack grew still, focused on the hand carding through his hair. He always knew that, was reminded of it constantly, but always refused to accept it. Refused the truth even right before his eyes, and even now, the thought made him burn in guilt and anger. He may be a super soldier but he was still just a man. And there was only so much just a man could do. 

_But that wasn't an excuse._

He owed them that much, to carry on what they all started. He had a responsibility to them and the Strike Team and he couldn’t even carry it out.  
What use is he then?

The two remained silent, Jack silently counting the vital beeps, tired but too aware of the other to sleep.

" _Mí cielo_ ," the hand paused and the bed dipped further. His lack of response was taken favourably as he felt a featherlight touch on his arm,tentative. Jack didn't reject the touch, resulting in arms wrapping around him and pulling him back. He didn't refuse that either, instead relaxing into the hold. The wraith held him tightly, as if he could disappear at any moment, and leaned closer. The voice a mere whisper,"...You...I'm glad you're alive."

The always confident voice hesitated, filled with a desperation rarely held in his tone, "I can't lose you again...I'm not ready...."

The conviction made Jack turn over, staring into that emotionless mask. Mist was shrouding him, pooling on the bed and rising. That mask was leaking, small streams of clouds faintly leaving the holes. For a brief second, Jack remembered a flash of black mist of during the battle, but shook his head at the possibility. 

Jack took a cold hand in his. It flinched at the feel of bandages but squeezed back gently.

"Jack," he muttered. His free arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer. “Don’t think about it.”

Jack closed his eyes and the buzzing thoughts finally calmed, his numb body far from his mind. He took a moment to breath, nuzzling closer into the solid chest, and focusing on the cold hand in his and the faint scent of ash mixed with sterile medication. The room had gone colder, comfortably so, and goosebumps prickled on his skin. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered. The words still sounded empty. Reaper was right when they first met. 

_He was pathetic._

The wraith crooned something in Spanish, sounding heartfelt. Jack finally felt tired, his body stretched to its limit, focused on the repairs. He fell into a deep sleep, the feeling of his hand being held a constant comfort.

••••••

Gabriel hummed lightly, waiting for Jack to finally fall asleep. His form was deteriorating too quickly as he felt his control slipping. Against his will, the dark matter started deforming, melting, and folding over itself in an attempt to obey his will only to melt away again.

Seeing the blond finally relax, he extracted himself carefully, putting a pillow to replace him. Jack didn't stir, clutching onto the fabric of the blanket.

With muttered words, Gabriel left the mortal plane, feeling his body try to compose itself once again. The constant burning evaporated as did the ringing in his ears. He shouldn't have come back so soon but he needed to see Jack, to make sure he was okay. Even if Ana had assured him that he was fine, he needed to see for himself.

Even bandaged and broken, he was alive. That fact alone motivated him to endure the hassle of reforming his body against its nature. Now he had to pay the price. 

Each step felt like walking against a current, heavy and slow. He didn't want to try and mist, for fear of not being able to materialize again, but he felt his control slipping again. When his vision blurred and the ringing started again, he looked back at the bed, gauging the distance. 

He'd have to fucking risk it then.

Nervously, he shifted under the door. On the other side, his disoriented body was barely able to fit itself back together. A quick check found him missing a forearm and both legs. He could work with this. He’d have to. 

The halls were brightly lit, muted in color. The quiet ambience of machines filled the background. Staff was scarce thankfully. Fighting against the current once more, he strode down the hall, searching. Red lights filled his vision, dotting rooms and calling to him, but he resisted most.

Slowly, he continued on, managing to get to the wing he was looking for. Entering, the hall was empty with only a skeleton crew on duty. By the time he left, alarms had woken several others, followed by the rushing footsteps and concern growing throughout the wing.

••••

Jack awoke alone, disappointed while clutching a pillow. He wouldn't write this off as a dream. It was one of many memories, that just all felt like dreams. Groggily, he glanced at the clock, but was unable to read it. He wasn't sure how much time passed since he glanced at it because a nurse walked in. He couldn't make out their face but asked him something. Someone else was with them, probably a doctor. They both said something and he wasn't sure if he responded or not.

Hearing them speak was like listening to a busted radio, hearing a couple words here and there but usually a fuzzy noise.

 _"Something, something_ last night. _Something, something_ dosage?" The doctor looked at him(?) expectantly. 

He only nodded, not really sure but seeing as the doctor clasped their hands, seemed like the right answer. They walked over to his side, probably to the IV and took something from their pocket.

Briefly he expected the searing feeling of lava entering his veins again, but instead felt a gentle wave of warmth, like getting into a bath. It spread slowly, lulling him and making his eyes droop.

The doctor said something to him again and he barely nodded.

The world became a waking dream after that, flashes of visions followed by blurred images and thoughts, making him wonder what was in the IV. 

At times, he found himself back on the ground, dodging incoming fire while trying to gain a vantage point. Other times, he was walking around the facility, fresh faced and looking for a fight to work off some aggression. Then there were odd memories of a faceless person, smiling at him tenderly (maybe an old movie he saw once?). Briefly, he felt himself fall back into being huddled in a bunk, shivering and coughing while literal poison was being pumped through his veins.

Sometimes he thought he awoke for the day, glancing over at a faceless nurse as she did something to the IV and attempted to talk before falling under again. Other times he'd awaken alone with the monitor to muffled voices outside his room. Majority of the time, he would glance to the side to see the familiar bone mask staring back coupled with one of his hands being cradled in cold ones. 

•••••

"Looming like that isn't going to make him get better any faster."

Gabriel didn't turn, still holding Jack's hand as the blond slept. He looked so vulnerable: skin paler than before, his cheeks having grown slightly sullen, and the darker outline around his eyes. The monitor beeped on and his shallow breaths reminded him that Jack was alive, that he didn't lose him but only barely. The blue flame of his soul still burned brightly but for how long?

He heard Ana close the door and pull up two chairs. He sat down besides her.

"They said he's fine. He just needs to rest so the wounds can heal."

But that wasn't a guarantee. 

He should've been there and not have let his stupid pride get in the way. Jack got hurt and he didn't stop it.

"I heard what you did."

He felt a hand try to grab at him. Rolling his shoulders, he looked at her.

"You can't just kill off an entire wing," Ana frowned at him. "Even if they're in HOSPICE."

"Probably did them a favor. Sides, most of they wouldn't make it. That's why they're _there_."

"Some of them could have and _you_ shouldn't be the judge of it."

He raised a brow and paused, before remembering she couldn't see it,"I can't leave him."

Ana sighed, "Gabriel, he'll be fine."

Gabriel bristled at the answer. 

“How’s your..condition?” she looked him over. 

“Shitty,” he scoffed. “Have to feed more often.” 

“You can’t-”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking but I’m not gorging myself, Ana,” he snarled. “I still have _some_ restraint.”

She didn’t believe him. Not that he could blame her. She saw him at his worst. Only natural that she would be cautious. 

The monitor changed as Jack opened his eyes. Gabriel held his hand tightly as the blond looked over and gave a weak smile.

"Hey," he said softly. Blue eyes looked straight at him, making his heart break. Seeing him asleep made him look sick. Seeing Jack awake made him look positively _fragile_ , as if even the smallest touch would shatter him in his hands.

"Hey,"he replied numbly.

"Nice to see you when I wake up this time."

"I promised I'd be here."

Jack looked over and finally noticed Ana, first panicking before drawing a flat line, "Oh, um."

"Nice to see you doing better," she remarked.

"Yeah."

Jack glanced between the both of them.

"Is he here?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah. There," he nodded to the chair next to her. Sometimes Gabriel wondered if Ana was just this good or Jack was just more oblivious that he remembered.

"Do you want to be alone?"

Jack glanced at him briefly.

"It's fine," he answered.

"No, he said it's okay," Jack drew a flat line, not meeting Ana's eyes. Gabriel didn't let go of his hand. "They did something with the IV. Hard to stay awake."

"Supposed to keep you rested," she explained. 

Jack grew concerned,"Hey, Ana, how's Reinhardt?"

"He's fine, Jack. More excited to have a new story to tell."

He tried to smile," At least something good came out of that."

Gabriel squeezed his hand, "Jack."

"So, I finally gave Fareeha that bracelet," Ana quickly changed the subject, pulling out her phone. "But she said it didn't make up for all the birthdays I missed."

Jack broke into a bright smile,"You could always do a super party. Just put a candle for every birthday on the cake for her."

"I was thinking about a party, but I don't know about that."

The two chatted about possible party ideas and Ana showed him recent pictures of her daughter. Gabriel soon melded into the background, watching Jack smile happily as Ana went through the photos. 

It was at times like these that he didn't regret revealing himself to Ana. She was a good woman and could help Jack where he couldn't. Even if she didn't approve of some of his methods and often prodded him for information, he felt glad to have someone else in Jack's life to look out for him.

As the hour passed, Jack grew tired and a nurse came in to check on him. Ana was asked to leave but promised to come again and bring the strike team. Jack gave a small goodbye, asking to hold her to that promise as another dosage of the strange liquid we injected into the IV. With a yawn, he laid back further into the pillows. Once the nurse left, Gabriel looked down at him, watching him, as he always does.


	2. Just a Little Sample

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so it's been a while. My schedules finally stabilizing and I got some work stocked up.
> 
> ( ' v ' )
> 
>  
> 
> ***Further edits incoming

Someone opened the door, tray in hand. Over the last week(?), Jack had been fighting to stay awake. So far, he was successful, somewhat, at being awake for at least a couple hours at a time. Vaguely, he remembered people talking to him and replying, but most of it remained a blur. Today felt similar with his mind swimming before adjusting into a crisp picture.

It wasn't one of the nurses that entered today, not that he'd memorized the others. In spans of consciousness, he was able to at least differentiate each one. Three in total. One smelled strongly of hand lotion. One spoke to him, even if he thought he couldn't hear him, in a gentle but annoyed tone, and the last was always silent, but wore shoes too big that dampened their footsteps as they worked.

If the lab coat was any indication, the doctor stepped inside, tray in hand. She paused a true door. She smelled strongly of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. What struck Jack was not her bright, wide eyes, the obvious frazzled state of overwork, or the surprised smile on her lips but her age. She was young, very young. Nonetheless, she walked with the sure and professional confidence of other doctors after getting over the initial surprise of his intense gaze. A slow, warm smile spread across her face as she approached.

"It's nice to see you awake," her voice was accented, European that he couldn't place. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Just, disoriented," he replied. "Kind of sleepy."

"I would expect as much. You are still in critical condition."

Oh.

"What's your name?"

She raised a brow before quirking a friendly smile,"My name is Angela."

He tried to give his warmest smile, "Nice to meet you. Jack Morrison."

He held out his bandaged hand to shake hers. She took it and smirked,"Nice to meet you again, Mr.Morrison."

Jack blinked and scratched the back of his neck, "Again, huh? Oh, sorry I forgot."

"It's alright, Mr.Morrison," she tutted,"It's nice to see you lucid today."

"Yeah, Nice for the both of us," he smiled again.

Angela walked over to the bedside table and wheeled it over. She placed the tray down and pulled off the lid, revealing a bowl of thin broth.

"You've been on an intravenous diet while you were out so we have to work you up to solid foods. Don't want to put too much strain on your body. "

Jack looked down at the tray and nodded, taking the spoon from her. It wasn't too bad, though he couldn't really taste anything either. Angela turned her attention to the machines plugged into him. He watched her scan the numbers and examine the IV, reading its labels before nodding to herself again.

"Have you been feeling any pain?"

He blinked,"Not really."

She shot him a concerned glance,"If there is any pain or discomfort at all, please let us know so we can help."

"I'm okay. Just a bit stiff I guess. Thank you."

He finished his meal quietly, glancing at Angela every now and then. She had picked up his chart and was reading through it with intense concentration. He could read the surprise and confusion that flittered across her gaze before it changed to curiosity.

"A true medical miracle,.." she muttered with a shake of her head.

"I think I just got lucky," he replied, finishing his meal. The broth felt like a lump in his stomach, his body trying to accept food after so long of infusions. Those blue eyes stared at him with curiosity.

"What happened to me Angela?" he was finally lucid enough to ask. He wasn't sure when Ana would be back, and didn't think that he'd be focused enough to remember again.

Angela drew a flat smile before sighing. She pulled up and chair and looked at him earnestly. Those young blue eyes were stained with pain and seeped with empathy.

He'd taken a lot of damage during the fight. The bullets cut through his body like ribbons. His whole right side was damaged, a couple broken ribs. One of his lungs were hit, not as bad as it could've been but a prioritized wound. His heart was grazed, luckily not punctured. Several cuts and bruises added in addition to shrapnel having to be cut out of his body. Jack looked at his own arm, examining the bandages, as if he could see the wounds under them. Burned by fire. He wondered if the skin would be molted underneath.

"It took us a while to get all the shrapnel out," Angela stated. "And we almost lost you that first night when your condition didn't stabilize."

Jack nodded. Ana did say he almost died, twice. Her lips tilted in a hopeful grin, "But seeing your progress now, you truly are a miracle, and I've seen quite a lot."

True. Those internal wounds felt more like a dull pain in his chest, probably due to the cocktail of medicine they got him on, mixed with the enhancements of his body. His bones felt healed already, seeing as he was able to move his arm, but with an overall sore feeling and stiffness. To anyone, he was a miracle and should have died on the transport over to wherever this hospital was, but he didn't. He was here, fine and recovering. A short coma of indeterminate length, a lot of drug induced sleep, and some professional help, should get him on his feet in no time.

An honest to god miracle to any outsider.

But he was no miracle.

That's too optimistic for what he did to get those wounds. He was a fucking moron doing the stupid stunts teenagers did just because they could in the name of short lived fame.

Part of him wanted to tell her about the science experiment he'd gone through to be a 'miracle', but the world would probably find out soon enough. Being a scientific and medical miracle didn't really weigh much on his mind, always overshadowed by the thought that he should be dead right now.

"Nah, I'm no miracle. More like a freak of nature," he smirked, a sad half smile.

Angela shook her head, "When you arrived,we expected something bad but not that bad. When they wheeled you in, the wounds were so grave, a lot of us thought you weren't going to make it."

Those blue eyes went wide in shock as she firmly gripped the files, when realization dawned on her, "Oh, I didn't...We-"

"It's fine," he waved his hand nonchalantly. "I didn't think I'd make it either."

She furrowed her brows, concerned.

Beep. Beep.

Angela plucked something from her pocket, a pager.

"Got more lives to save?" Jack quipped. He felt drained.

Please leave.

Angela nodded, looking a bit guilty. He nodded for her to go ahead as she stood from her chair. She was back to that confidence of when she first entered, speaking in that smooth, professional voice.

"I have to go. If there are any problems, please press your call light."

Angela picked up the tray and Jack smiled at her,"Will you come again?"

She looked back at him, "Most definitely, Mr.Morrison."

"Just Jack is fine. I'll try to remember next time," he gave a small wave as she exited the room and flicked the switch, leaving the overhead light the only illumination in the room. Once the door shut behind her, he wondered just exactly how old she was. Maybe she just had one of those faces, but that look of professional calm seemed to tell otherwise.

Alone once again, the monitors beeped on. He glanced at the clock: 8:57. Maybe he should have asked Angela to open the curtains before she left. He lay back on the pillows, slowly turning his aching body onto his side. Curling up, he let his thoughts wonder.

The smell of disinfectant was heavy in the air. He remembered that similar scent and how it was all he focused on when sitting in that godforsaken dental chair, when it wasn't mixed with the heat of battle and the acrid smell of pulse ammunition and gunpowder. His mind conjured the faceless, clinical precision of needles and the nausea that followed after. The soft treading sounds of his regulation boots on tile that sounded like walking through an echoing lot. How two other pairs would join him and complain about their shared aches and symptoms.

As he closed his eyes, he saw Philips and Neilman joking about the serum turning them into superheros. Philips wanted to be Deadpool but without the fucked up face. Neilman said he'd rather be Wolverine, causing a small argument between them. Jack was left the judge, as they sat in the mess, crowded on either side. He remembered giving a vague answer before both soldiers quipped at Jack becoming Steve Rogers, seeing as he was already branded the Golden Boy. The two laughed while Jack tried to defend himself, unable to not smirk at their jokes. Opening his eyes, he remembered the small grave he made for one of them, a pitiful little pile of stone and sand in the courtyard of that hospital. Robert Neilman. David was happy with the job, even if they both got scolded by staff later.

The room grew colder and he pulled the blanket tighter against himself.

"Still awake?" the gravelled tone was at his bedside. The mattress dipped at the edge.

He turned over slowly. The wraith was patient. He seemed more whole this time, lacking the leaking wisps. The grim reaper sat on the edge of his bed, keeping him company. Sounds like a bad joke.

"Where've you been?" Jack stared at the mask, glad that the sterile smell at least brought this to him.

"Some business," he replied, taking one of Jack's hands in his. "You look tired."

"I am. Don't want to sleep yet though."

The monitor beeped on, uninterrupted. Jack half closed his eyes, just taking in the feel of cold palms slowly warming from his own. He glanced over. Bright red against black.

"What's in those shells?"

"Secret."

"Come on, tell me."

"It's a secret."

Jack pouted before smirking,"Souls of the Damned?"

He hoped the ghost smiled, "Sure and if I open one, it'll scream like a banshee.

"That'd be cool."

"It'd be loud as fuck."

"Still cool."

Jack stared up at the ceiling, the swirling thoughts agitated in his mind.

"Hey," he tried to sit up but Reaper muttered a complaint, easing him back down.

"You're 'the Reaper'," It came out more like a question. The wraith tilted his head. "Do you, 'reap souls' and stuff?"

Reaper stared at him, "Why?"

"Speaking of souls...," Jack cringed at his own question but continued,"...Do you think they passed on, you know,...safely I guess?"

Those survivors probably died horribly and painfully, if not from the bots then the eradicating explosion. He didn't look at him but stared ahead towards the door, as if he could leave.

Reaper paused, tapping his claws in thought.

"Yeah," the wraith answered lacking any of his usual mockery. "They passed on without a hitch. I bet they were thankful you tried to help them."

"Just because I tried doesn't make it okay. They're dead. They won't come back," he huffed, fist clenched on the bedrail. He needed to be quieter or the staff would get curious. He didn't need any more attention in addition to 'medical miracle' right now.

"This again?" a sigh, "Just wish you'd finally understand and move on. Not much help fishing for an opinion to match your own."

"They're dead because of me."

"A lot of people are dead because of things. Not just you. And you can't keep blaming yourself for all of them."

"But-"

"We're not talking about this again, Jack."

The sense of finality in his tone made him frown. He nestled back against the pillows, glancing at the wraith every so often.

What happened happened. Right.

"You think Reinhardt is okay? And the rest of the team?"

"I'm sure the giant will still be kicking long after you and I have kicked the bucket."

"So you can die."

"If disappearing into nothing counts as dying."

"I'd say it does," he muttered. Lazily he glanced at his arm. "I was burned and shot."

"I can tell."

"Didn't think I'd actually make it."

"Me neither...You were there, weren't you?"

Reaper turned at his words, attentive as he waited.

"I saw it, that black cloud. You were there."

"Must've been smoke inhalation making you see things."

"I know you did something," he turned over in the bed. "Thank you."

••••••••

The night smelled of fire and ash. The bright flames filled his vision as far as he could see. The building was burning. Chunks of wall passed him by as he ran. This wasn't the ruins though, but familiar.

'Help' the voice kept yelling for him painfully. His legs burned, singed by the embers and exertion. He sounded close but just barely out of reach. Someone was in the building with him. He needed to get them out.

Help.

He turned quickly as pieces of burning wood fell in front of his path and headed up the stairs. He was close.

Climbing to the top, he bashed into a door, breaking it and scattering embers, making him cough and squint his eyes. They building groaned in response, as everything started to shake. Pieces landed around him as the ceiling came crashing down. He tried to run, but felt someone push him hard back. Over the cracking of the wood and popping burns, someone screamed.

Jack blinked when he awoke, familiarizing himself with the room. The metronomic beats of the vitals monitor and the stale smell of the hospital assaulted his senses, as did the faint noise of a TV.

Wait.

Reaper sat at the foot of the bed, back facing him in front of the large holoscreen playing some show. He wasn't sure what the language was but leaning to the side, he spotted subtitles appearing on screen. The ebbing strain of the dream forgotten, he tried to see what the wraith was watching.

"There's a TV in here?" Jack muttered dumbly, causing the wraith to turn around.

Reaper flinched, changing the channel quickly, before turning to face him, "They didn't show you?"

"Too drugged up to remember I guess," he furrowed a brow and sat up against the pillows. "Weird to see you still here."

"Not like I have anywhere else to be," the wraith rolled his shoulders, glancing at the weather report. After seeing the seven day forecast, he started flipping channels individually. Given the oversaturation of talk shows clicking by and a glance at the clock, it was early morning. The wraith continued to flip through the channels before settling on a cartoon program.

"They still play this?" Jack remarked as a colorful superhero flew across the screen. Reaper hummed as he moved back, leaning more on the bed rail than sitting on the bed next to him. He wasn't too sure about the language but the translated subtitles helped as the narrator followed the heroics. He hummed along with the end credits.

"Nice to see you smiling."

"Miss watching this as a kid."

"I think they have a marathon today."

"Might as well. I need to get caught up."

Reaper gave a short laugh, sitting at his side on the bed. They got through several episodes, Jack vaguely trying to remember and explain arcs or little tid-bits he remembered about the show. Reaper went along with it, watching the antics with assumed interest.

"I see why you like this show," he finally said as one of the arc finales came on. "That guy reminds me of you."

"Which one?"

"Not the main guy, the blue one."

"What? I'm not the main character?"

"Nah, he's too one-note. The other guy has more depth."

"But he always runs out to get caught."

"Exactly. Just like you."

Jack cocked a brow, pointing to the screen,"Fine but you're him."

"Why the fuck am I some B-grade villain?"

"Not cheesy enough to be anyone else."

"Is that a compliment?"

"And you got a shitty mask too."

"Well fuck you too then."

Jack smirked but didn't look over, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the morning.

Knock knock.

Reaper handed him the remote as the credits started playing. Jack changed it to some random nature documentary and muted the sound. The wraith left in a wisp of smoke, the cold chills absent from his side.

"I'm coming in," Angela smiled as she opened the door, tray in hand. She shivered, entering the room. "Oh, you're awake already."

She furrowed a brow at him as she drew closer, but said nothing else. This morning was oatmeal with syrup and some yogurt.

"And how are you feeling this morning?"

"Good actually," he replied, taking some of the orange juice.

"Dr.Kruive is going to come by today."

Jack looked at her,"You're not my doctor?"

She gave a soft grin,"Technically no. I am charged with looking after you though. Dr.Kruive got held up but she wants to examine you personally."

"Okay," he finished his breakfast. "When is she coming?"

"She should be here soon. I'll bring her by later."

Angela ran through the usual questions: how he was feeling, if there was any pain, how was his night, etc.

"Is it cold in here for you?" she glanced at the machines.

"Kind of warm actually," he watched her draw close.

"Excuse me," she placed a hand on his forehead,"You feel normal and nothing seems out of the ordinary."

"I always ran a little hot."

She hummed in thought, picking through his file again. She looked tired.

"How long is your shift?"

She didn't look up, "I'm on call at the moment. "

"Did you sleep last night?"

Blue eyes looked over the folder, brows raised. She smiled politely,"I'm fine, Jack. Thank you."

"I understand saving lives but take care of yourself too."

'Hypocrite.'

Jack rolled his eyes.

Angela paused, glancing around. Her pager chimed again.

"When I have the time," she glanced at her watch. "I'll see you in a bit."

Her pager whined for attention, and she was off again, tray in hand.

•••••••  
Knock Knock

"Come in," Jack called from the bed.

Ana opened the door happily, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and Laio in tow. He smiled brightly, excitedly greeting each of them.

"Still loud for someone in critical condition," Liao tried to joke, an awkward but relieved smile on his face. "Sure you're injured?"

"Got the scars to prove it," Jack remarked. "Wanna see?"

"Ah, pass. Thanks," Liao placed a vase of flowers on the nightstand. "Pretty sure you're gonna make a full recovery."

"Glad to see you patched up," Torbjorn handed him a card, the envelope signed from each of them.

"It's wonderful to see you doing well," Reinhardt pulled up some chairs from the waiting room. He and Ana took a seat while Torbjorn and Laio examined the machines while chatting about something.

"Here," Ana handed Jack a mug of strong tea, softer that what he usually smelled during their extremely brief breaks, and a large construction card with crude letters atop. He set the card aside and sipped the tea gingerly, accidentally burning his tongue but thanking her anyway.

"Jack, my friend, I'm sorry. I should have gotten to you faster." Reinhardt spoke guiltily. The giant's head hung low with an ashamed frown, something that didn't belong on that usually laughing face. His recovery was going well, it seemed, but Jack couldn't help but stare at the bandages covering his friend's arm. They were merely gauzes, nothing too heavy duty but still, it worried him.

"No, I shouldn't have talked you into going with me in the first place," it was his fault after all. "How's your arm?"

The crusader gave a warm smile, his voice rising with his confidence, "Ah, a small wound like this cannot keep me down."

He attempted to flex, but the demonstration was stopped by Ana placing a hand on his arm and shooting him a glare with a smile,"Two weeks minimum Reinhardt."

He gave a small chuckle, "Ah, you're right. My apologies."

Laio and Torbjorn stood at his bedside,"Adwe was flipping shit after she heard about what happened."

Jack cringed at that.

Oh, right, the UN was probably gonna grill him for the stunt.

"She needs to talk to you later but we managed to put out some fires," Laio have a small grin.

"Thanks."

"Thank me when you're better."

"Looks like I'll have to rework your armor again," Torbjorn sighed, "Really tore it to shreds, but at least it did its job."

"I'd gladly wear it again. Saved my life too many times out there."

The questions hung heavy in the room: What happened after? How did the op go? Was it finally over?

Jack bit his lip, trying not to blurt it out all at once, seeing the hesitant faces of the Strike Team. It took a moment for the silence among them to pass. It was after a tense, long pause that they all began catching Jack up to speed.

How Reinhardt managed to practically scrape Jack from the battleground to camp and Ana's quick work that saved his life until the delivery showed up the next day, how they managed to message transport for immediate medical attention before they shipped out and how Jack was carried off back to base, and had gone through with the plan to bomb the Omnium which was a success. How the government was finally able to come in after the Strike Team to clear out any other hostiles in the area. The transport back home and straight to the hospital to get patched up.

Jack watched them with wide eyes as his listened, another wave of guilt and self loathing rising from inside. He gripped the blankets tightly in his hand. He wasn't there when he was supposed to. The team had a difficult time on the mission down a man and with one gravely injured. He hindered the mission all for his defiance and selfishness. After the explanations were done, they remained silent, none really sure what to say.

The war was over.

They should be happy, but each had their own worries.

As always, it was Ana who triggered a lighter mood. A quirk of a smile on her face as she asked and laughed about a certain battle with Reinhardt. A smile grew on the crusader's face as he remembered and laughed along. The rest of the team felt warmer as Reinhardt retold a story of their valor in the heat of battle.

"I can't believe you shot the building. I almost didn't make it out in time," Ana complained.

"It was going to collapse anyway, better have it fall on some Bastions. I warned you beforehand," Jack smirked, still holding the mug of tea as it warmed his hands.

"Surely Ana, you would have been fine. I was on my way to shield you from fire," Reinhardt smiled.

"More like you were running from it," Torbjorn smirked, patting his friend on the shoulder,"May got some of the best armor in the world but you're not invincible."

"But where is the glory in cowardice?" he challenged.

The discussion diverged from battle scenarios to more mundane topics, like the first meals back home or planned for after their recovery. They all made plans to go out to dinner after Jack's discharge, not yet decided on an exact place or cuisine but happily looking forward to it. They parted on better spirits, each having another appointment. Ana promised to visit again soon, along with Reinhardt. Torbjorn handed him a tablet, loaded with some books and other entertainment. Jack thanked them all greatly with a wide smile until the door closed behind them.

The smile fell.

•••••

"Gabriel," Ana called after making sure Liao and Torbjorn had left. Reinhardt stood behind her sheepishly sitting in a chair. Odd how such an expression didn't make the man seem any smaller. Rolling his eyes, he misted closer to Ana, standing a few steps in front of her. (He gave up appearing behind her after almost getting socked in the face.)

"What," he answered, arms crossed.

"Appear, he wants to talk to you."  
Gabriel glanced at the giant who was staring vacantly where he was but passed him, like usual. Only Ana had the sharper eyes, pinning him down with a stare.

"Why?"

"He won't tell me. He just wants to talk to you."

Briefly, he wondered what this looked like: Ana talking into empty space while Reinhardt just stared on, trying to see what she saw. He glanced at the giant, trying to fathom any topic he'd want to talk about besides the op.

"Gabriel."

"Fine," he relented, rolling his eyes. Might as well get this over with quickly.

With muttered words, he entered the plane, his body starting to feeling that familiar burn. He huffed, noting how Ana would owe him. Did she not understand how difficult this was getting lately? Even just appearing for Jack was getting harder for him.

Gabriel drew closer to the giant, who stood in that wide eyes fear like when they first met, but this time, he didn't buckle, instead standing his ground.

"What do you want?" Gabriel watched the man, arms crossed.

"Ah, so that's what you look like," Reinhardt stared at him in awe.

"That better not be it."

Catching onto his annoyance, the crusader gave a nervous cough.

"I wanted to thank you," Reinhardt started. "For saving us."

Oh, this.

"All I care about is Jack."

He furrowed a brow,"Ah, but you still came back to help me."

"You were carrying him. That's all."

"I saw what I saw and I am thankful for your help nonetheless," Reinhardt gave a gentle smile. "Gabriel, was it? Ana has told me of your...special circumstance."

Gabriel glared at the woman who merely eyed him with the epitome of innocence.

"And just what exactly does that mean?"

"Not to worry, Gabriel. I shall aid you. Jack will not come under further harm under my watch."

Gabriel shot daggers at Ana who simply patted Reinhardt's arm, as if commending him on a job well done,"Not a bad idea having an extra set of eyes,"

Gabriel huffed, muttering under his breath. His body faded, sucked back into the Other. The colors around him muted and sound started to sink underwater.

"And where are you going?" Ana chided him, her voice cut sharp and crisp like a knife.

"Why did you tell him? I thought I had your word."

"I said I wouldn't reveal you to Jack. And I'm not going around gossiping if that's what you think," she stood in a firm stance. "Think about it Gabriel. You said you were having a hard time. Let us help."

Reinhardt blinked at the space where he disappeared, turning to Ana with concern," What else did he say?"

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't be there for Jack 24/7. There would always be that one off time that he was gone and something would happen, but partnering up with others wasn't something he'd done often and the last time he did got both he and Jack killed.

"Do what you want," he finally said.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he replied with a flat tone. Just those simple minutes cost him too much. He needed to refuel again if he was going to talk to Jack tonight. Ana let him to with a lopsided frown.

"What did he say?" Reinhardt asked, trying to find what she was looking at.

She shook her head,"He 'thanks'."

•••••

Not ten minutes later did his door open again.

"Excuse me," Angela greeted him cheerfully. Two lab coats were following her, one wheeling a cart.

"Nice to see that you had visitors," she remarked, noticing the flowers.

"Just a couple friends," Jack replied, eyeing the two doctors as they grew closer.

"Jack, this is Dr. Kruive," Angela introduced, "and her assistant, Dr. Reynolds."

The two doctors greeted him with polite smiles and gentle handshakes. Reynolds wheeled the small table with a medical bag on top. They flanked him on both sides, tablets in hand, watching him, more like scanning him. Angela closed the door and started talking to them about his condition in medical language, he only understood parts of.

"Lean forward for me please," Kruive tapped his shoulder lightly. He complied and she examined the back of his neck. His skin started to crawl with dread as he felt a latex finger trace over the bar code. Kruive read out the series of numbers to Reynolds, who typed it down. In that instance, he remembered those echoing tiled halls, that godforsaken chair, and colored vials of poison. Kruive turned away to the bag, unzipping it and pulling a needle. A very thick needle. Like ones for infusions.

"I'm sorry, but you must leave," Reynolds gestured to Angela.

She glanced at him,"He's still in my care."

"He is my patient," Kruive remarked firmly, typing something on her tablet. "Besides, this is a sensitive procedure."

Angela cocked a brow before complying.

No. Please don't leave me with them.

"I want her to be here," Jack stared, stopping Angela in her tracks.

"You don't have a choice in this," Reynolds scolded.

"Don't I have patients' rights?" he countered.

Kruive raised a brow at being defied.

"He is a patient of this hospital," Angela stepped in. "He has a right to choose who's treating him. Even if just being in the room."

Reynolds frowned at that," Ms. Ziegler, you misunderstand. We are in no way violating patients' rights since he is not a patient of this hospital. He falls in jurisdiction with the government, so he is not a patient here."

Angela stared at the man, confused and frustrated, "Can I at least know what is being done? Whatever procedure you're conducting will have a drastic effect on his condition and my treatment plan."

Reynolds glanced at the vials,"Nothing invasive. Just a matter of tests and samples."

He pulled on some gloves,"If you don't mind, Dr.Ziegler."

She glanced at Jack with concern.

He gave a weak smile,"It's fine then."

"Jack?"

"I'll see you later. Bring me a dessert for dinner okay?"

Angela nodded, stepping out of the room but looking back before closing the door. Jack took a deep breath, being left alone with the two doctors.

It would be fine. He was used to this.


	3. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kept rewriting this chapter over and over again. :/   
> This is the best I've rewritten it.
> 
> ***Further edits may occur.

Gabriel misted back into Jack’s room, rubbing his shoulder. Sometimes he wondered if he burned more fuel than he was taking in. Nonetheless, he should be good for a while. 

Honestly, this hospital was too good, a blessing for Jack and an annoyance to Gabriel. He could see them, all the souls of people within (or whatever you called the core of a person’s being). Some globes burned brightly while others dimmed or flickered. Over time, he came to understand the lights, the dimness of the glows. He knew the signs of when one showed damage or repair, if one would recover or simply disperse into dust. Being his only form of sustenance and all, it all came naturally, but damn this hospital for being too good. He barely managed to find anything to eat in this place, and after the whole HOPSICE incident, he couldn't exactly just cut some power or wait for one of those flickering lights to extinguish on its own. With his pickings growing slim, his hunger forced him outside of the building and away from Jack, which he didn't like. But, it was either feed and remain in control, or delay it and risk deteriorating into nothing. (Like he'd be any use then.)

Two doctors were packing their things within the room. Gabriel eyed their quick movements. Jack lay in bed, with the same neutral expression, but looking a bit paler. One of the doctors carefully set aside several vials of blood. The other held baggies of something and more vials of some liquid. Gabriel tried to examine it further but their bag zipped closed.

"We’ll see you again in two weeks," one said to Jack. "Looking at you now, your condition should be fine, but we'll be in touch."

"Okay," Jack replied weakly. Blue eyes finally noticed him in the corner. His mouth twitched to form a smile but he schooled his features once more. The doctors left quickly but the door hadn't closed completely before someone else came in.

"Jack, are you alright?" the woman closed the door behind her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiled at her.

Gabriel walked to the bed, eyeing the woman. She felt...off. Similar to Ana, he felt something more about her but couldn't place the feeling. At the same time, it wasn't like Ana, or other Seers. It felt too different, like an unseen threat. Not quite fear but caution crept up his spine as he watched her. The woman looked ahead, eyes searching around the room before focusing on Jack. She stood at his bedside.

"What did they do?" concern dripped from her voice.

"A lot of samples," he replied tiredly. "Blood, hair, and just a lot."

She raised a brow, "Hair?"

Jack shrugged,"They just wanted it. Not like I could say no."

She frowned as her pager beeped again.

"You should take that."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

She sighed, crossing her arms. For a moment she looked at his direction, eyeing the space. Gabriel raised a brow, staring right back. She said nothing, shaking her head.

"I'll see you later."

"Bringing dessert right?" Jack smiled.

"Yeah."

"Thanks, I like chocolate."

She smiled,"I'll keep that in mind."

With quick steps, she left, closing the door gently behind her.

Jack glanced at him, "Hey."

"Hi," Gabriel leaned over the bed rail. "Aren’t you two close.”

“She’s just my doctor. What, are you jealous?”

Gabriel stared down at him, ignoring the question,”What happened to you?"

"SEP happened to me," he tried to sit up. “Said they were from the lab group.”

Gabriel grumbled under his breath, feeling his body start to burn, but he ignored it, helping Jack lean against the pillows. He muttered a thanks. 

"Some doctors came in and took a bunch of samples," he stared at him. "Said they needed it for some tests or something.”

"Typical," he noticed the flowers on the side table, a delicate, cheerful bouquet in a thin vase with a ribbon. "I told you they were fine." 

"Just glad to see it for myself."

He picked up the larger one and opened it, tracing the neat and unruly scrawl of get well messages and signatures. Ana had left an extra note in Arabic, something he couldn't even begin to decipher. Her neat writing easily identified next to the others. Next to it was the cheerful message of Reinhardt's surprisingly neat scrawl, an inference determined by the message's use of 'glory' and 'honor', and Torbjorn's crude letters.

"Liao got me those flowers.”

"Not bad, for Liao, "he glanced at them briefly, trying to imagine Liao actually leaving base to get the arrangement. Knowing him, he probably got it delivered. 

"Yeah," a short laugh. "Ana got me tea. And Torbjorn brought me a tablet, and it was Rein's idea for the cards."

He picked up the construction paper one. A small smile tugged on his lips as he looked at its contents: the small picture of a figure holding a thermometer in a hospital bed drawn in color pencil. Next to it was a carefully written 'Hope you well soon' in lopsided, blocky letters. Two signatures were at the corner, one in the very neat cursive of Ana and the other in little Fareeha's attempted cursive.

“Ana said she’d bring Fareeha next time,” Jack sounded wistful.

“Must be nice to finally meet the fabled daughter,” he put the card down, returning to his side. 

“Yeah,” Jack had that look: pursed lips as he stared down at his hands. He wanted to say something, probably wasn't sure how. That meant he wanted to argue or finally let go of something clogging up his mind. He always had a problem of bottling things up til it became too much. Gabriel waited. Jack always said what he thought, even if it took him a few moments.

Instead of words, he reached his hand out towards him, a small gesture. Gabriel obliged him, taking that hand and misting off his gloves. His skin was warm. Bandages still wrapped around his palm. This was the hand that was burnt. The rough feeling of the gauze made him guilty.

He should have been there. 

He should've stopped Jack.

He was late, and so he almost lost him again. 

"When they came to visit, they said they were glad I was okay," Jack started, his voice strained. 

"Why wouldn't they be?"

Jack shrugged, mouth in a half-frown. He bit his lip, cutting off a sentence. Gabriel watched him intently, as if to will him to finally speak his mind, but he could already tell. Jack wanted to take responsibility for everything, again; as if he was the only one at fault. He could see it in his eyes, how they refused to look anywhere else and how his shoulders seemed to fold into himself. The gestures combined with his current state only made him look more feeble, more fragile in Gabriel’s eyes. In a way, it was too accurate to what Jack probably wanted to talk about. 

"Reinhardt's injured. He got a bad shot in the shoulder."

"He's fine though, isn't he?" 

"Yeah...Yeah, Ana said he was gonna make a full recovery."

Sometimes, he needed a little help.

"Jack," Gabriel prompted. "Are you okay?"

“Yeah, just fine,” he tried to bluff with a twisted smile. 

“Jack.”

In the silence that followed, blue eyes narrowed and he pulled a tight frown,"You know me too well, huh?"

He laughed nervously. It must be bad.

"Don't hide it. Tell me."

He paused.

••••••••••

"It’s over," Jack finally said, staring intently at the woven pattern of the hospital blanket. 

"It is," Reaper tilted his head, waiting patiently.

The idea was still too fresh in Jack's mind. Even as his blood was being taken along with all those other samples, he was still trying to understand. Ana had said so when he first woke up. Those talk shows from this morning still had headlines about reconstruction, but hearing it directly from the Strike Team finally let it sink it.

The war was over.

The fact struck him with a sense of disbelief, that it wasn't true, like something was going to happen that very day to make it untrue. They'd been fighting for so long, lost so much, that the idea of it finally being over still felt like just an idea, like he was going to wake up in a temporary camp the next day for his turn for patrol.

"Jack?" Reaper's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

"It's just-it's over, and..."

"And?"

He thought back to the grim faces of the Strike Team as they explained the aftermath. The explosion, the escape, and all of that mess. None said anything about it being won. This wasn't a fight one could win, except the enemy. What they did, what they planned in case it didn't work out the first time, and what they decided was the only option stained their hands. There was no idea of 'we won' no matter how much of the public believed that. Jack squeezed the cold palm. Reaper didn't reply. He waited, letting Jack form his words.

"I should be happy, right? I mean. I'm alive, the war is over and all those people are safe. But it doesn't feel right. I wasn't even there. I didn't do anything to help blow up the God Program. I couldn't even save that camp. It doesn't-I shouldn't, even be here right now. I failed that mission. I'm stuck in this damn hospital because of it. And for what? I was MIA during the most important op and I'm just...I have faith in the team, I really do, but I couldn't. Why-I should've been there."

Jack bit his lip, his face feeling wet. A cold hand wiped the tears from his face. His voice was calm, restrained, but Jack could hear the annoyance begin to seeth into that comforting tone, "You can't change the past, Jack. You're alive now. Focus on that."

"But those people aren't. I'm here when I shouldn't be. Reinhardt got hurt. I wasn't able to help the mission. It's all my fault."

Reaper let go of his hand, curling his own into fists,"Not everything is about you, Jackie. Sometimes shit doesn't work out and you have to just get the fuck up and keep going."

 

Jack could only stare, too startled from not only the raised voice but the fog that followed. Smoke leaked from the figure now, creating an ethereal scene. Reaper towered over him, looking just like the vengeful death dealer he was named for. 

It took a moment for him to respond as the words started processing in his head, "How can I just go on, knowing that I should've done more? I should've saved this people. I should've helped the team during the OP."

"You should've done a lot of fucking things like you should've fucking listened to reason and stop running out there without a plan. You should've let the camp go instead of trying to play hero and save them. You should've listened to me when I said it was a lost cause." Reaper growled, black smog leaking from his mask. 

Jack stared back, wide-eyed as the wraith slid a hand down one half of the mask. With snarl, more smoke came out in large puffs as the ghost seethed. A hand went to his shoulder, holding him firmly,"You can't keep harping on about this. It's gonna kill you, so stop focusing on it."

Despite the feeling of claws threatening to dig into his shoulder, Jack felt numb. He was getting tired of being guilty, but with each thought, the guilt stacked on one another until a layered tidal wave threatened to drown him. 

It was his fault. 

He should've done more. 

"When are you gonna get this through your thick skull? You just keep repeating yourself, so fucking intent on finding a reason to feel sorry for yourself, thinking that you’re the only hope in the world. Goddammit Jack."

Jack frowned, listlessly. Guilt still riddled his mind, mixed with shame. 

Cold fingers interlaced with his, catching his attention.

"Get out of your head Jack. You're here. You're now. That's what's important. If you're going to stew about it, then think of the people you leave behind."

The Strike team's wry smiles came to mind, followed by his family. They'd bury him with honors that he didn't deserve and...The cold hand squeezed his, hard. Jack looked at the mask, reading the tensed shoulders and the severity of the voice.

"And I swear to God, Jack. You fucking matter. If you pull that martyr shit again, I'll personally drag you down to hell myself."

The pressure on his hand began to hurt but Reaper stopped. Gentle once more, he rubbed lightly to take away the pain. The smoke had stopped but its remnants still flooded the floor. 

"Never expected you anywhere else," Jack remarked.

The bed dipped as Reaper sat besides him. He helped Jack move over and they both laid back. With the bed being too small, their shoulders squished together, or the padding of the wraith's shoulder and his. Hands still clasped together, Jack noticed that the spiked gauntlets, the shotgun shells, and extra belts were gone. The cold hand had blunt nails, not claws. He stared up at the ceiling, comfortable in their shared silence.

Cold skin against his own was familiar. The touch of another person, or feeling of it, was comforting. He wasn't alone. He was here. In the now. Alive. He was alive. He may be heavily injured in a hospital but alive. With a deep breath, he tried to calm his buzzing thoughts. He made the decisions, even if it had cost him and Reinhardt to be injured. They were both still alive. What happened, happened. There's nothing he can do about it. 

Why was that so hard to understand? 

He needed to understand, needed it ingrained into his mindset but a sense of defiance always followed with a small voice that undermined those thoughts. There was always this feeling that he could change it. That things didn't have to be this way. The thoughts buzzed in circles of one another, chasing and layering on top.

“Stop thinking, Jack,” Reaper shifted next to him, and let go of his hand. He felt empty without it but watched the wraith. Reaper helped him onto his side, as he spooned behind him. One arm wrapped around his waist. Jack clutched the pillow case and leaned back against his chest, recounting the facts to himself.

The war was-is over.

He is alive.

The Strike Team is fine.

Reaper is with him.

Here and now.

“Hey,” he finally said. Reaper didn’t respond. “I don’t think I can change.”

He sighed behind him, “I doubt you can, especially about this.” 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, Jackie. It’s not something you should be sorry for,” he felt the wraith shift as he pulled the blanket over the both of them. “Always nice to see people with your mindset. Just gotta find a better way of dealing with it when it doesn’t go as planned.”  
Jack smiled, placing his hand over a cold one. 

"They take a lot of blood?" Reaper muttered.

"Kinda," he replied. "Took a lot of stuff, like some hair and spit."

"For what? To clone you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Reminds me of back there."

"Fuck that place," Jack flinched, surprised to feel something tracing over the back of his neck, right on the barcode. "I won't let them take you back to that hellhole."

“Funny, since that’s where we met.” You were the only good to come out of that.

Reaper hummed in reply, lazily tracing over the tattoo. It tickled, causing the blond to shake his head. A low chuckle sounded behind him,“You were so scrawny then.”

“Not so small anymore though.”

“Had me worried back there,” he felt the dull edges of the mask dig into his shoulder. “Seemed like I was gonna lose you every other day. Never thought I’d be happy to see you in actual combat.”

“Ironic isn’t it?” A lot about them was ironic actually. Jack shifted, causing Reaper to pull away.

He turned over slowly, looking at the mask, “Can I ask you something?”

“It better not be-.”

“It’s not.”

The wraith scrutinized him before he spoke, “What is it?”

“Why did you appear again? I mean, stay after…we fought?”

The wraith paused, “Like I said, I promised I’d be here for you. Whether you want me or not.”

“You can’t keep using that excuse,” Jack frowned.

“I’m just keeping my word.”

“You didn’t have to physically be there though, and,” Jack grabbed at the hem of the hospital blanket with his free hand, “take all that…I’m sorry. About what I said and for you ‘know.”

Reaper didn’t respond.

“I mean it. And all that stuff…I was just so mad…At everything. I thought-seeing you made me feel like I was crazy-like I thought the war had finally made me insane for still seeing you. Not that I don’t want you here but-I…”

“It’s fine Jack. I get it.”

He took a deep breath, thankful for the wraith’s patience, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I shouldn’t have kept my head so far up my ass and listened. It wasn’t just you but Ana and everyone telling me but I didn’t listen. I’m sorry. It’s pathetic and I hate that but I’m sorry.”

Reaper waited to reply this time, propping himself up on an elbow, “You’re not pathetic, Jack. Just sometimes you do things that are.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

The wraith crooned something in Spanish, heartfelt as Jack nestled closer in his hold.

 

In his dreams, he walked with a faceless man. Despite not recognizing him, the man was familiar. They strolled on the beach, with the man giving him warm smiles and talking in a muted voice. His tone sounded more than friendly, affectionate even. The next moment, the same man was upset, arguing about something with the words drowned in water. He looked older this time. The last sight had the man screaming in shades of fear and agony. 

Jack’s throat burned. He was screaming too. 

Blue eyes snapped open as he felt something wet roll down his cheek and heard the constant beeping of the vitals monitor. 

Right. Hopsital. 

Vaguely, he tried to remember the dream, but all of it went by so fast with the scenarios already fading from his mind. This wasn’t the first time he’d have dreams like this, that he knew for sure, but all those times, he could never remember the contents clear enough. 

Glancing at the clock, he wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he did wake up to a cold bed and a pillow at his back. With a frown, he sat up to see Angela opening the door with a tray. She looked even more tired than earlier but held a pleasant smile on her lips.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” she set the tray down.

“No, just got up actually. What time is it?”

“About 7,” she pulled up the bedside table and revealed his dinner: more broth, but this time with a side of chocolate pudding. 

“Thanks,” Jack took the spoon from her and glanced at the clock, “Were you here all night?”

“Naturally,” she pulled up a chair and sat with him. He frowned when she pulled out a small tablet and started going through messages while glancing at him every so often. Her eyes drooped frequently before she’d shake her head, willing herself awake. 

“Angelia,” she glanced up from her tablet. “Why don’t you take a break? I won’t tell.”

She raised a brow at him, “I can’t exactly do that. There’s just too much and stopping now will just put me further behind.”

“You can’t keep running without rest. Your body will give out.”

“I know that.”

“Doesn’t stop you though, does it?” he continued eating, watching as she flipped through several files. “Put it to you this way, what if I’m such a handful you can’t help but stop to help me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Just what are you implying?”

“Can’t fault you for helping out a critical care patient,” he purposed, “even if all I want is company.”

“Mr. Morrison, I don’t think you have the authority to threaten me with being an ill-mannered patient. “

“Just Jack is fine, and don’t I?” he covered the empty bowl again, his stomach not even full and craving more. He moved on to the pudding, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience but I can if I need to.”

“I could always assign one of the other nurses to your care, “ Angela glared at him. “Or claim you need something to help you sleep.”

“And that would take more time, wouldn’t it? More work on top of everything.”

She sighed, “Arguing isn’t exactly rest, now is it?”

“No, so put the tablet down at least. I’ll wake you up in thirty minutes.”

A slow but relieved smile crept on her face, “I’ll hold you to that.”

With quick movements, she set an alarm on her tablet and leaned back in her seat. It didn’t take long for the doctor to be knocked out, slumped in her chair. Jack sat up, thankful that the door didn’t have one of those little windows. He pulled out the tablet Torbjorn gave him and booted it up.

He immediately went to the news. Spread across every outlet were proclamations of the war finally being over and heavy praise upon those who fought in it. Jack skimmed the paragraphs. The officials stayed vague in terms of the war effort, emphasising on the lives saved and the process of rebuilding. All along the suggestions were similar articles or heartfelt pieces of soldiers who finally came home and the ones who didn't. Most of the information seemed irrelevant but cemented the facts. The war was finally over. The God Programs were stopped and the world was finally at peace. At least that was the movie ending he told himself, and the type of stories the world told itself.

Jack searched for the more obscure, more rational articles describing just how much damage had been done. He didn't find much but photos of ruined cities and paragraphs about the relief effort. Other irrelevant articles focused on an odd chain of killings occurring among gangs. The bodies were left in an odd state with claw markings. Jack skipped over those articles and checked more about the relief effort, only to find more government speeches about the war. As expected, no outlet knew the true plans and tactics the war had taken, most of which made Jack shudder in recalling, but all recognized the damage. Cities and towns decimated, innumerable amount of lives lost, both civilian and soldier, and the overall suffering caused by the attacks. They had a lot to do and Jack was determined to see that through to the end but what about after?

The questions awoke his restlessness. The uncertainty it imposed scared him. He was a soldier, literally made for war thanks to SEP. He wasn't made for peace. He was made to kill and destroy in the name of his country and to protect the people around him. Now that the goal was finally achieved, he should be happy but he felt like a small piece of him was lost. What was a soldier without a war to fight in? He turned off the tablet and sighed. 

After getting out, he’d try to help in the relief effort in any way he could, but as of now, that was all Jack had planned for his future. Earlier, he asked the Strike Team about their futures. Liao was already off the table, too integrated into circles beyond his knowledge that let him stop moving. Torbjorn was scheduled to leave to expand his research and inventions. Ana had Fareeha to care for and there was no doubt that Reinhardt would continue fighting for glory and justice in some fashion with purpose. But what about him? 

 

Jack flinched, hearing the alarm. Angela didn’t stir, her breaths still even as she dozed on. Carefully, he leaned over to grab the tablet. Shutting on off the alarm, he caught a glance at some research files and diagrams of some grenade like object. He didn’t really want to snoop, but he didn’t really understand the research in the first place. He set it down again after setting the alarm for another thirty minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> It took some thinking but I felt that Final Strike wasn't at all polished or anything and it didn't really read well. It also didn't help that I ran into some super writer's block in it while having all these other installments near completion with far more quality. I really tried to actually plan the entries in order but the story didn't exactly flow well. So, that's why I always added that these could be read as stand-alones if necessary, so I can get some better quality works out even if they aren't in order. 
> 
> This is gonna feel trippy and part of something more since this us supposed to take place directly after Final Strike. Sorry about that.


End file.
